


Forgotten

by cyndrarae



Series: Snapshots!verse [3]
Category: X-Men (Movieverse)
Genre: Amnesia, Blindness, M/M, Prostitution
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-11
Updated: 2013-05-11
Packaged: 2017-12-11 13:11:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/799103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cyndrarae/pseuds/cyndrarae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>X3 happened (gasp!) in which the Phoenix 'killed' Scott, but Scott survived. And regressed. This is the story of how Scott resumes his old life as a prostitute far away from Westchester, New York.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Forgotten

********  
  
 **1.**  
  
It was drizzling the first time they met, in an alley littered with trash and stinking four ways to hell and back. Scott groped his way to his favorite corner barely shielded from the rain by a thin leaking canopy that’d clearly seen better days. Pressed against the wall and turned to face his first client for the night.   
  
“So what will it be?”   
  
“…”   
  
“You have to speak up man. Noah told you I’m blind yeah?”   
  
He waited. The man took two steps closer, then stopped. Scott, already up against the wall, had no choice but to hold his ground. He heard the man exhale louder than he spoke.   
  
“He told me.”   
  
Silence again. Awkward. Usually the customers would make a move by now, or at least tell him to strip or go down or something. This guy seemed content to just stare. Or maybe he was shy. Scott smirked and started lowering himself to his knees.   
  
“Wait.”   
  
Scott stood back up. Confused.   
  
“Can… we talk first?”   
  
Huh? “You’re paying for a blowjob dude. Not a date.”   
  
The rapid exhale again. “What’s your name?”   
  
“Scott. You can call me Scottie if you want. Can we get on with it? I got a line waiting.”   
  
“How old are you?”   
  
Fuck. Scott stepped closer to the other man, molding his right hand around the big man’s crotch until he started, but didn’t back off. The bulge started to rise and Scott whispered close to his ear.   
  
“Baby I can be as old or young as you want me to be.”   
  
A large, firm hand gripped his wrist and prevented him from stroking deeper. But it didn’t push him away either.   
  
“How old?”   
  
Scott huffed, adjusted his glasses with his other hand.   
  
“Do you wanna play, or do you want the truth?”   
  
“…”   
  
Yeah. Scott thought so. He would have rolled his eyes if he could.   
  
“Twenty six.”   
  
“This line of work ain’t exactly known for its longevity, kid.”   
  
The stranger’s voice, the oddly hybridized accent, it all just… grated on his nerves and the caustic words didn’t help. Scott pulled his hand away and put some distance between the two men.   
  
“Look man, your concern for my future is really touching and shit, but I don’t have all night. So do you wanna do this or not?”   
  
Scott could hear the wheels turning in the man’s head, first timer for sure, he concluded. Fell to his knees on the cold, damp street and this time he wasn’t stopped. Scott took his massive length in with the ease of a practiced professional and proceeded to give the man the best blowjob of his life.   
  
Later, he handed Scott a fifty, turned on his heels and walked away without a word. By the time Scott figured out he’d been paid thirty dollars extra, the man was long gone.   
  
  
 **2.**  
  
The second time, Scott got Noah to book them in a cheap motel at the edge of town where the man didn’t have to worry about running into anyone he knew. Like his wife, maybe. Guy sure was jumpy.   
  
Scott walked across the familiar room to the bed, all the while feeling the man’s heated gaze on his body. Voyeur. He hid the smile threatening to break out, set his feet apart on the floor and started to unbutton his shirt. Johns loved to see him undress.   
  
“How long have you been doing this?”   
  
“I don’t know. Forever.”   
  
Pulled off his shirt and toed off his shiny black boots.   
  
“How long have you been in Anchorage?”   
  
Scott sighed, giving up on the striptease and plonking himself onto the foot of the bed.   
  
“Dude. Not sure what Noah’s said to you? But I’m sorry we only trade sex for money. We do *not* offer companionship.”   
  
The man chuckled, but it ended abruptly, almost as if he’d been caught unawares himself. In that moment, Scott felt a strange sense of… accomplishment. And then before he knew it, the man was towering over him. Scott tried to calm his racing pulse, stunned by his totally unprofessional reaction to a customer.   
  
“Lie back.”   
  
Scott grinned. Finally, he thought. Guy was a complete pushover, agreed to pay him hundred bucks for the hour! Christmas had come early in the form of this man, who wouldn’t settle for any of the younger boys. It had to be Scott. Only Scott.   
  
Nearly blushing, he fell back on the bed and felt the man undo his jeans then tug them off him in one strong move. He scooted upwards to make space for the big man between his open legs. But he wasn’t prepared for a warm trap of moisture to close around his half-hard cock.   
Scott gasped. He hadn’t been blown in… well… ever.   
  
The mouth was skilled, and fucking hungry. Scott gripped the headboard with both hands and struggled not to thrust up into it. When he came, he bit into his knuckles hard to muffle the screams. His benefactor suckled for a while longer until Scott whimpered, then he stopped.   
  
“So how long have you been in Anchorage?”   
  
Scott shook his head in utter resignation. A *talking* fetish… man that was a first. No other explanation for why anyone would want to get to know someone like him.   
  
“Six months.”   
  
“And before that?”   
  
“Kodiak Island Hospital.”   
  
“…”   
  
“I was in a coma for three months, at least… that’s what they told me.”   
  
“What happened?”   
  
He shrugged, wishing he’d brought his pack of smokes along.   
  
“I don’t know. Ten years of my life have been wiped out of my memory by the… accident I guess.”   
  
“…”   
  
“If I’d known *this* would shut you up…”   
  
“When you said you were twenty six…”   
  
“I calculated. I was fifteen back in ’95.”   
  
“…”   
  
The man lowered his face close to Scott’s, hot breath flicking over his throbbing lips. For a second, Scott thought he was going to kiss him, and for the life of him he couldn’t remember a single reason why he should refuse. He may be *pretty* as he’d been told often, but he was no goddamn *woman*.   
  
It never happened. The man got off the bed, straightened up. Left a hundred dollar bill on the dresser and walked out.   
  
  
 **3.**  
  
Scott was bent over the back of the couch, bare ass up. The man pounded into him ferociously, big calloused hands gripping his hips roughly to keep him in place. The bruising was going to last for days. It started slow, like the man was testing his own strength and that of his whore’s. Then picked up momentum and soon he couldn’t hold a regular rhythm anymore. Thrusts became more forceful, more erratic, reaching into Scott where it ached the best, over and over again. The couch squeaked and Scott moaned like a porn star, loud and unrestrained and this time he wasn’t faking it.   
  
The man stayed silent.   
  
Once the man pulled out, Scott slid to the floor and kicked his pants off completely – too sore to bind himself within the tight leather so soon. The man, panting as hard as Scott himself, collapsed onto the couch behind him. Reflexively, Scott leaned against the nearest thigh and the man let him.   
  
“So you ready to talk now?”   
  
Scott snorted, but didn’t move. “I’m a mutant.”   
  
“…”   
  
“I can kill you with just a look. Not kidding.”   
  
“So you taped them shut?”   
  
“There’s no other way, apparently its just my own freakishly resilient *eyelids* that can contain ‘em.”   
  
“That hospital in the news…”   
  
Scott chuckled, but there was no humor in it.   
  
“Yeah, that was me. When I woke up, I was zonked. I couldn’t believe I’d lost ten years during which I’d somehow gone from Manhattan, New York to Kodiak Island, Alaska. But I was happy ‘cause I thought the accident, or whatever, had gotten rid of the damn red beams. I could *see*. Of course, five days later…”   
  
“…”   
  
“Think they’re still looking for me. Scott Summers. 26 going on 16. Rogue *amnesiac* mutant. Misdemeanor? Gave the hospital a new sunroof.”   
  
“…”   
  
“Don’t worry, it’s not contagious.”   
  
“You couldn’t hurt me if you tried.”   
  
It was a confession tinged with sadness, with no challenge or pride in his words. Scott waited for the man to explain.   
  
“I regenerate. I can heal myself. Real fast.”   
  
Scott swallowed, nodded shortly. No wonder the man took it so well.   
  
“There’s something else.”   
  
“…”   
  
A sudden, sharp metallic sound, like a couple of swords pulled out of their scabbards at the speed of lightning, reached his ears. Scott craned toward it and frowned. Should he be worried? Should’ve known the guy was too good to be true.   
  
“Do you want to touch them?”   
  
“Uh, okay.”   
  
He held out a mildly shaking hand, the man took it. Brought it close to the back of his own hand. Let him feel the bleeding knuckles, the abnormal protrusions.   
  
“Does… this mean anything to you?”   
  
“Should it?”   
  
“…”   
  
The man didn’t respond and Scott didn’t stop to ponder either. He was enthralled with this man’s kick-ass mutation. Way *way* cooler than his own. At least he could sheathe and unsheathe these babies and be normal whenever he wanted to. He could actually put them to good use – like defend himself, and others if necessary. Without morphing into a weapon of fucking mass destruction.   
  
Scott felt a stab of envy and bitterness go through him and he pulled away, reached for his pants instead.   
  
“Scott…”   
  
“You promised me five hundred for tonight.”   
  
The man stood up, his movements not quite as rushed as before. He left five hundred dollar bills on the dresser and left.   
  
  
 **4.**    
  
Scott lay on his stomach, stretched out on the nice, comfortable and *clean* bed in the man’s hotel room. He was surprised at first, then delighted to be invited over to his place. And after going three rounds, pretty sated and sleepy as well.   
  
The man was naked too, lying on his side and propped up on one elbow. With the other hand he caressed the length of the younger man’s back and drew fine circles on the swell of his ass. Scott had his face turned toward the man. His eyes weren’t hidden behind black glasses nor were they taped shut. He held them closed with a casual ease on his own.   
  
“So you’re gonna tell me your name or what?”   
  
“Logan.”   
  
He was tempted to ask Logan what, but didn’t push. Heard the man slurping on something, then felt a couple of spit-slick fingers prodding his opening. Scott buried his face in the pillow and waited.   
  
“You like this don’t you? Everything we’ve done?”   
  
Scott snorted. “Kinda late to be asking for my consent, dude.”   
  
The fingers stilled.   
  
“Yes, I like it.”   
  
He bit back the ‘but only with you’ riding the tip of his tongue.   
  
“Have you always been… gay?”   
  
“Bisexual. I’ve known since I was fourteen. Why?”   
  
“No reason, I just never…”   
  
“Never what?”   
  
“…”   
  
The man scooted over closer to his companion. “Scott. Do you ever think of those ten years you lost? People you knew…”   
  
The relaxed ambience evaporated and he was tempted to get off the bed, put some distance between himself and his freakin’ interrogator. But Logan’s fingers were now buried deep inside of him, leisurely massaging his passage and damn it felt good. Everything about this man felt good. Scott had stopped thinking of Logan as a john hours ago. But the question still hung heavy between them and he didn’t… didn’t wanna go back there. Buried his face back in the pillow.   
  
“You talk too much. Anyone ever tell you that?”   
  
Logan chuckled ever so quietly. “All the fucking time.”   
  
Scott sighed.   
  
“The last thing I remember is blowing lines with my buddy Victor and passing out on his floor. When I woke up, I was alone. No one knew who I was, where I came from. Apparently someone found me face down on the Pacific shore and called 911 and… please don’t stop.”   
  
The last part obviously was meant for Logan who was about to withdraw his fingers. For the next few minutes Scott wordlessly mewled and humped the cerulean bed sheet as Logan lavished attention to his sweet spot. He orgasmed with a soft grunt, took a moment to catch his breath then deadpanned.   
  
“Let me guess… I haven’t answered your question yet.”   
  
“…”   
  
Scott sighed. “Way I see it, I don’t remember them so it’s only fair that they’ve forgotten me. If there ever *was* a ‘they’.”   
  
Scott didn’t want to admit how hard he’d searched, as much as he could despite his blindness. He tried not to think about how crushed he was, when he realized nothing had changed in the last ten years. He was still the same blind, uneducated, helpless little whore running from the law and with no one to turn to. Not then, not now, not ever.   
  
“Maybe they’re looking for you Scott.”   
  
He felt the hackles rising then.   
  
“Well, done a bang up job so far. Thought this was the *Information* age, or so I’m told.”   
  
“Maybe they don’t know you’re alive. And you can’t just file a missing mutant report you know. Not for someone as powerful as you.”   
  
Powerful my tight ass, Scott thought to himself. Turned over to his side, effectively causing Logan to lose his hold inside of him. He propped himself on one elbow unknowingly mimicking Logan’s posture and stared in the general direction of his face. Scott gave up on feeling sorry for himself months ago. But he knew he’d regress when this man moved on.   
  
“Don’t make me go?”   
  
Once again, Logan exhaled louder than he spoke.   
  
“Never.”   
  
No money was exchanged, and no one left that night.   
  
  
 **5.**  
  
The cell phone rang, waking him up early next morning. Logan looked at the caller ID, considered getting up and taking it in the balcony. Then decided against it.   
  
“Yeah… yeah, I found him.”   
  
He lay spooned around Scott, transferring the phone to the other hand so he could continue to hold him around his slim waist. He felt the other man stir then freeze, heard his breath hitching in his throat.   
  
“He doesn’t remember us… Head injury… yeah. Ten-year gap in his memory.”   
  
Couldn’t help but wince at the cruel irony – yet another tragedy the two men could swap notes on.   
Beside him, Logan felt the shudders gather strength.   
  
“No no, he’s fine… I don’t think you should talk to him right now… ‘Ro he doesn’t *know* you.”   
  
He smelled the salt then, wrapped himself tighter around the younger man perhaps more to assure himself, and to ensure Scott didn’t bolt. Whispered his next words to Ro in Scott’s hair.   
  
“I’m bringing him home ‘Ro… tonight.”   
  
The phone clicked shut just as Scott broke free and slid out of bed, quivering back towards Logan.   
  
“Why did you wait so long?”   
  
Logan swallowed hard, the coldness in Scott’s voice reminiscent of the time he was Cyclops… field leader of the X-Men… stoic, unwavering, and *achingly* out of reach.   
  
Logan sat up.   
  
“Because I’m a fucking coward… because I didn’t know how to tell you everything that happened, with you, your girlfriend, your fa... so many things that are best left forgotten.”   
  
“…”   
  
“Scott I… I didn’t know where to start. I still don’t. I was just so relieved to find you alive and… fuck. Cyke, you and I… we never…”   
  
“Start there.”   
  
“… where?”   
  
Scott turned toward him then, not touching, not seeing, and definitely not forgiving. Not yet. Just… listening.   
  
“Cyke. What’s a Cyke?”   
  
  
  
 **** END **  
  
A/N: Let me know what you think? :)**


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